


those who give and receive

by Kisatsel



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Phone Sex, Polyamory, multidirectional pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisatsel/pseuds/Kisatsel
Summary: Lovett knew about Tommy, obviously, but since when was Favs anything other than a gleaming, impenetrable bastion of heterosexuality?





	those who give and receive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speakingwosound (sev313)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/gifts).



> Dear speakingwosound, I hope you have a wonderful Yuletide!
> 
> Many many thanks to winterfold, helpful friend and wonderful person, for talking me through all the times I stalled while writing this.
> 
> (please don't share this outside of fandom spaces! thank you! <3)

_Favs_

It felt gleefully, implausibly right when, after months of threats, cajoling and insults all intended to make him jealous, Tommy finally turned up at the Crooked Media office and was immediately accosted by two excited doodles. 

“Hey Pundit, hey Leo! Hi! I know, I smell of airport. Sorry. I missed you!” 

“You think he’s gonna bother acknowledging the humans in the room?” Jon said to Lovett, biting back his smile. 

Lovett looked over towards Tommy, still crouched by the door with his messenger bag on, petting the two dogs. “Doubtful.”

Tommy stood when the dogs finally got bored of him, looked around at the bare walls and said, “Really guys? This place?”

“Home sweet office home,” Lovett said. “Wait till you hear about my redecoration plans.” 

The pieces were settling into place, Jon thought with deep satisfaction.

It was almost like back when he and Tommy had set up Fenway Strategies, looking around over their shoulders and grinning at each other: _The president isn’t our boss anymore? Nobody’s in charge except us? The world isn’t gonna burn if we get it wrong?_

_Oh god, it’s just us, we have to get it right._

Almost like that, except this time Lovett was there too, scribbling madcap ideas with pen on the window and sipping his diet coke and needling Jon with a straight face, pushing them harder, the stakes just as high as they’d ever been. 

\---

They went out to the bar down the street from the office that night, buzzing off the thrill of recording together in the same room, and managed to grab a table in the corner. Tommy looked good. Not washed out, not doggedly pushing on through his exhaustion, but excited. He looked like San Francisco had suited him fine. L.A. would be better, though. 

“Tommy,” Lovett said with deep gratitude when Tommy brought the first round of shots to the table, “Where have you _been_. This is what’s been missing. Favs never subsidizes my alcohol and bad decisions.”

“You’re buying next time. Also, that’s untrue. You manipulate Favs into buying you drinks constantly.” 

“And then blame me for the hangover,” Jon added. He picked up his shot. “To Crooked Media!”

“To Crooked Media,” Tommy and Lovett duly chorused. They had to lean in close to hear each other, jostled by the press of people around them, their eyes bright in the dim hazy light of the bar. Something about it made Jon reckless with wanting. 

\---

The house Tommy was renting in WeHo, it turned out, was mostly empty of furniture. Lovett grimaced and announced that he needed his couch to store clothes, so by the elimination of all other possibilities Tommy came back with Jon.

“Here it is!” Jon said when he finally got the door open. 

They stumbled through into the kitchen and Jon leaned dizzily back against the wall. Tommy listed against him, heavy and smelling of sweat and tequila. Jon shifted to better take his weight. 

“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled. “Gotta - shouldn’t--” and pulled away, but Jon shoved him back against his chest with the hand that was resting between Tommy’s shoulder blades. 

“You really came,” Jon said. Something in him that had been wound tight for a long time without him even knowing it had loosened when Tommy pressed his body against him. 

He put his face against Tommy’s neck to inhale. “Jon,” Tommy said, maybe a warning. But fuck _cautious_. Would cautious get them through the year? Jon dug his fingers into Tommy’s back. 

“‘m glad,” Jon said. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. Tommy put a hand up to rest on the top button of Favs’ shirt, playing with it between his fingers. Jon’s body knew what came next here. “Favs, fuck, let’s think this through, think of - things. There are things.”

Thinking was hard when Jon could have the press of Tommy’s thigh against him if he just shifted and moved Tommy where he wanted to. So they could grind it out here, messy like they used to. Like old times. He tried to think past that.

“Lovett,” Jon said. Tommy’s gaze shuttered at that; he glanced down at their shoes, instead of meeting Jon’s eyes. “Tommy, we founded a business with Lovett.” 

Tommy nodded. The mention of Lovett should have been sufficient: Jon waited for Tommy to peel himself away and stumble over to the couch, where Jon would haul him up again and direct him up the stairs towards the guest bedroom. 

Tommy licked his lips. Jon made a small, hungry noise he hadn’t expected to escape from his throat, which under normal, soberer circumstances he would’ve been embarrassed by. 

“Yeah,” Tommy said heavily. 

He leaned in hurriedly and kissed Jon, briefer than Jon had been expecting from the way he leaned in; Jon opened his mouth for it with a flood of arousal and expectation and then felt wrong-footed when Tommy drew back.

“‘Cause we’re celebrating,” Tommy said awkwardly. 

“Right.” 

“I should... bed. You got water?”

Jon gestured towards the sink. He watched Tommy tip his head back and drink until the glass was empty. 

Logic told him now was the time to leave and let Tommy find his way to the couch, but he found himself walking in Tommy’s direction instead, taking the glass from Tommy’s hand, putting it on the side. 

“I wish...” he said. “Wish we could celebrate better than that.”

He knew this wasn’t inevitable, but it felt like it should be. Maybe he wasn’t too old to be selfish and reckless, Jon thought.

“You coming?” he said, jerking his head over his shoulder towards the door, and knew from the way Tommy’s eyes widened that he was. 

And so the pieces settled in an uncomfortably new alignment. New sharp edges, and old ones smoothed over. 

\---

_Lovett_

It happened while they were all at the office. Jon had gone to refill Pundit and Leo’s bowl of water, and had taken a moment to sit on the floor with the dogs in his lap, scrolling through his notifications while Leo snuffled at his hand. And then he had decided that duty called, got up, and was walking back to the meeting room, when, through the glass panel in the door, he saw Tommy lean over and kiss Favs on the corner of his mouth. Favs’ mouth. He wondered if it was a diet coke and coffee fueled hallucination, if his eyes needed testing, if the glass in this door had some kind of distorting property which somehow blurred faces and gave the appearance of a kiss taking place when faces got close to each other. But all of these hypotheses seemed unlikely because he could see them sharp and clear, and then, directly afterward, Favs leaned in to whisper something in Tommy’s ear and he heard the faint sound of Tommy’s bark of laughter through the door. 

Jon turned and fled to the bathroom before either of them noticed him standing outside like a creep. He stood in front of the sink, staring hard at his own reflection and trying to gain control of himself. 

What the fuck. Why were they doing this! Why now! With each other! Why not - why hadn’t they told him! 

Jon took a deep, shuddering breath, turned the tap on and washed his hands mechanically with soap. Okay. This was a new development and he didn’t know what it meant yet but it was important to take a moment to celebrate Favs and Tommy’s presumed happiness before cataloging the various ways this felt like a betrayal of his own person. 

Okay. Done. 

The thing was, he felt awful. 

Why? That was fairly obvious: he was, after all, a fickle but notoriously clingy friend, and these were his two best friends, and if they were _together_ now then the dynamic would shift irrevocably and he would be relegated to permanent third wheel, forced to jealously watch their displays of affection from the sidelines and _nothing_ would be about _him_.

Moving onwards. He knew about Tommy of course, but since when was Favs anything other than a gleaming, impenetrable bastion of heterosexuality? How had Tommy cracked through that seemingly impervious veneer of Catholic repression? Obviously, Tommy was - Tommy, but what was lacking in Jon’s wiles? Aside from the obvious. In college, Jon had practically minored in kissing ostensibly straight bros who didn’t want to look gay in public. He was very happy to be through with that, but there was a good chance he would have extended that option to Favs, out of the generosity of his heart, if Favs, in the presence of beer and the absence of women, had wanted to get his dick touched. If he had asked. Which he _hadn’t_. Because he’d gone to uptight bisexual Thomas Vietor instead. 

And he would have thought, as Favs’ dearest and most prominently gay friend, that he would’ve gotten at least some clue as to these hidden desires, a drunken confession, a _sure, I’ve thought about it once or twice_.

“Nothing,” Jon said furiously to his reflection. 

Plus he had witnessed this secretly, and now he felt bad about the accidental snooping and had to act normal while getting them to confess or reveal their relationship as soon as possible so he could shout at them about it, in a funny way, not with a crack in his voice so that their expressions shifted to pity, and - Tommy was a good kisser, alright. Tommy had that going for him. It’d been a full four years since Jon had kissed Tommy, which was enough time to convince himself that he’d moved on and he didn’t need Tommy bringing up memories which were held carefully in their own mental containment unit and were best left undisturbed.

He wanted to kiss and be kissed. To whisper sly obscenities, to laugh. He was very good at all of those things. It was horribly unfair. 

Jon’s phone buzzed. He drew it out of his pocket, and saw a message from Favs. 

_Stop shirking work Lovett_

He sent _was busy giving hugs to dogs, on my way_ , hastily splashed water over his face, grimaced at himself and then took a deep breath to compose himself and went back to work. 

\---

Favs and Tommy were both seated at their desks by the time Jon returned and slid into the seat next to Tommy. Jon opened his laptop, stuck his headphones on, scanned the screen, and then glanced over towards the two of them. They were acting fairly normally. No signs of obvious or excessive flirting. 

Fine. Well, he had a sizeable email backlog to get through, and at least half of them could be deleted. Nothing more enjoyable than consigning unread correspondence to the abyss. 

“Do you ever wish you could delete texts?” he asked to the office at large.

“What’s been going on in your message history lately?” Favs said idly. 

“Not like that,” Jon said. Tommy made a scoffing noise. “Well, not _not_ like that, but - that’s irrelevant. I’m talking about other people’s bad texts. My texts are always good.”

“Uh, you sure about that? Favs took out his phone and held it up, like that was supposed to show something. “We literally have the receipts. Read some out, Tommy. What was that thing he said last week about--”

“About Dunkirk, right? About the soundtrack?” Tommy said. Jon turned to glare at him. 

“Oh god, no, I was thinking about the Marco Rubio thing,” Favs said. Tommy burst out laughing. 

“Read it out!” Elijah called.

“Hey,” Tanya said, mock-sternly. “Don’t read out Lovett’s sexts, we don’t wanna know.”

Lovett heard what he distinctly recognized as the sound of interns giggling. 

“Hey,” he said loudly in the interns’ direction. They straightened up immediately. Favs was already grinning in anticipation. Jon was used to being in the radius of his big dumb pleased smile, and ignored it with ease. 

He glared sternly at the interns one by one. “You want mentorship? You want references? You want me to comfort you when your cat runs away and help with your math homework and all the other many deeply generous things I do for you ungrateful youths?” He waited expectantly until they started nodding. “You better not join in with this workplace bullying just to impress those two knuckleheads. Who knows what schemes they have. Who knows what they’re hiding from us!” 

He turned back round once the interns were suitably chastened, or at least hiding their laughter.

“Well,” Tommy said. 

“I guess someone has something to hide,” Favs said without looking up from his screen. He was biting his lip to hide his smile. That was rich. 

“I hate when you two team up,” Jon said. “It’s unnatural. It upsets the balance.” 

“Lovett, we’re friends,” Tommy said, his _duh_ cadence. 

“Ah,” Jon said delicately. “My mistake.” 

He returned grimly to the emails, and didn’t look up to try and suss out the silent conversation Favs and Tommy were having around him, even though it burned inside of him. 

\--- 

Favs along with most of the interns were gone by 5.30 pm, which left Tanya in the next room and Tommy strumming his guitar absently, that half-empty end of the day office feeling. Jon was still seated at his desk with the laptop on his knees, messing around with the answers for the new game for Saturday’s show to make them sharper. 

Every now and again Tommy hummed a few lines of the chorus of whatever song he was working on, trailed off and then picked it up again. In D.C. Tommy had mostly only sung in the shower, which Jon had found hilarious. He’d demanded a few shower concerts from a pink-faced Tommy, but usually he hadn’t made it far in before they got distracted. Jon brushed the vision of a naked wet Tommy irritably aside and chewed the inside of his lip. Say something, or say nothing. Say nothing, surely. But - they were his friends. 

“Tommy,” he said, more decisively than he felt. 

“Lovett.” Tommy looked up. 

Jon stared at the blinking cursor on his screen and drummed his fingers restlessly. “Can I ask you something.”

“Sure. What’s up?” Tommy was still playing the same damn chord progression, like his hands were working independently of his mind. That wasn’t even - anyone could do that. It was nothing special. 

Jon ran rapidly through all the ways to formulate the question. None of them were any good. 

“Jon, what is it?” Tommy said. “We didn’t actually annoy you earlier, did we?” 

Jon inhaled and made an unhelpfully vague hand gesture. Stalling. 

“Seriously, you’ve been weird all day, Favs thinks so too.”

“Tommy, why are you dating Favs when I’m not?” Jon wailed plaintively.

Tommy’s hands went still on the guitar, and without it the office was far too quiet, just the distant sound of Pundit skittering along the corridor. “Have you - have you ever _tried_ to date Favs?” Tommy said. 

What kind of a question was that?

“No, because of all the obvious reasons why that wouldn’t happen. Hypothetically! Don’t tell him I said that. It’s not even - anything! It doesn’t matter.” Jon clamped his jaw shut and wished he could be more like Tommy, had the ability to tamp it down when something was driving him crazy. 

Tommy wasn’t giving much away right now. 

“Well,” Tommy said, “He - Lovett, I can’t speak for Jon. Talk to him, if you want.”

“Okay,” Jon said slowly. “I just - didn’t know you guys were a thing. Feels like something you’d mention.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “I. We. Haven’t talked about it much. How do you - Lovett, where is this coming from?”

“I saw you kiss. Earlier. By accident.” Jon threw up his hands. “So you’re involved with Jon, in some unspecified way. Who is not straight, and didn’t see fit to tell me this.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said tightly. “That about sums it up.”

“You’re not giving me much here.”

“‘05,” Tommy said, and his voice was hard now, like he had something to prove. “We fucked around for awhile, and then we stopped. And then, after you left the White House. And now.”

That long ago. Before Jon had even met them. It was like cold water dumped on him, and he hated that he hated knowing this. “Hm,” he said. “After I left. So you waited till after we broke up.” 

“You think I’d cheat?” Tommy said loudly. Jon remembered suddenly that they weren’t alone in the office and gossip spread like wildfire, and felt the whole thing slipping underneath him. 

“I never thought that, but now I think you’d hide things from me!” 

“After, Lovett. After you and I ended it. Any other questions?”

“No,” Jon said. He slammed his laptop shut and looked hard at the floor, at his hands, at anything that wasn’t Tommy or his face where he sat stiff and furious. Tommy had put the guitar down, finally. 

Tommy had been so _reasonable_ about it, was the worst thing - or maybe the second worst, with the worst being how obviously abjectly miserable he’d been about breaking up with Jon. _I have too many secrets to deal with_ , he’d said, and how could Jon, seeing Tommy come home after hours in the Situation Room stooping under the weight of the hard truths he knew and wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, insist that Tommy take the secret of Jon into work with him? 

It was a little scary to be sitting there feet away from Tommy and to have flung it all out into the open when the status quo between the three of them, which was really really good, depended on carefully not talking about certain subjects. 

He heard Pundit barking in the corridor and called her over, scooped her into his arms when she came up to him. 

“You didn’t hear that bark,” Jon told Tommy. 

“I didn’t,” Tommy agreed. He was looking at Jon’s dog with naked adoration, the way he usually did; Jon held her a little tighter, and half wished he had a convenient excuse so that he could run into a bathroom and scream again. 

“Hey, Tommy,” he muttered. “Sorry I yelled at you.”

Tommy gave him a tight smile. 

Jon let Pundit down to sniff around Tommy’s feet. “We make it work, right? Like. This was fine before I freaked out today.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. He was frowning hard, like he was trying to get something out, so Jon waited. “You know,” Tommy said. “I thought it might be easier if I stayed in San Francisco. But it’s better here. ‘Cause we’re friends. So. I know how you feel about Jon.”

“Do you?” Jon watched him pet Pundit. “Even I don’t know how I feel about this whole mess.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tommy said, like an offering. Jon didn’t know what to do with that. 

“Why not? You’re thirty seven. What, you wanna spend your life fucking without meeting his eyes and pretend you’re straight to the rest of the world while all your friends start settling down?”

“That’s not--” Tommy breathed out a long sigh. “This is so weird. I don’t know if I can talk to you about this stuff.” 

“Call me crazy,” Jon said, “but I think maybe you should talk to Jon about it. Before I get any ideas.” Strangely, the dredged up memories didn’t hurt as much anymore. He felt almost glad. “You wanna say bye to Pundit?”

“Of course I do.” 

Pundit snuffed at Jon’s neck as he gathered her up again. She was sleepy. He deposited her on Tommy’s lap. 

“Hey, darling girl,” Tommy said softly into her fur. “Goodnight. Don’t cause any trouble.”

“As if she ever would.” Jon scooped her back up. “Bye, Tommy,” he said in Pundit’s voice. “Favreau’s a catch. Get it the fuck together.” He waved her paw. 

“Spoken like a straight shooter.”

“Obviously. You staying late?” 

“Nearly done.” 

“Bye, then,” Jon said. 

“See you, Lovett.” 

\---

_Favs_

Leo came up to Jon, tennis ball clamped in his teeth, and skittered away when Jon took it and tossed it into the hallway. Jon wrinkled his nose at himself. He was uneasy about Tommy and Lovett. But it was good with Tommy, really good. Different, maybe, somehow, from before. And wanting Tommy predated Lovett. 

Leo was back, vibrating with anticipation, but Jon ignored the ball and gathered Leo into his lap. “Leo,” he said, “don’t fuck people you work with. It’s messy.” Leo, settled placidly on Jon’s thighs and gave no reaction to this advice. “You already know that, don’t you?”

Talking to your dog about your love life was never a good idea. Jon turned the TV up. 

It was kind of a sifting process: the day went on as usual, the headlines sunk in and settled in the pit of his stomach, and by evening, having batted things around with Jon and Tommy all day at the office and then over drinks he usually had some sense of what was worth despairing over and what to save for another day. 

If you were gonna come back to an empty house in your thirties, better to do it pleasantly buzzed from exercise or beers and good conversation. Better still to bring someone back, but he hadn’t, apart from Tommy, since - well, since the someone became Tommy. 

They hadn’t talked about this, specifically, but Tommy had to know that Jon had stopped sleeping with women since Tommy’d arrived in L.A. 

It meant something, and he’d even told himself what that was, though he hadn’t told Tommy. 

\---

In bed he reached for his phone off the nightstand out of habit, grimacing as he dismissed his notifications, and opened up his iMessage thread with Tommy. 

_Hey_ , he sent.  
_Everything alright with Lovett?_

It was a few minutes before his phone buzzed with a message from Tommy. 

_Yeah_  
_He knows about us, btw_

“Fuck,” Jon said under his breath. He’d assumed they would... make it a thing. Take Lovett for lunch. He’d thought they’d define what they were first, though he knew that was dissembling. He wanted some input on the conversational strategy, was all. 

_Oh_ , he sent.  
_How? Did you tell him?_

_He saw us kissing_  
_That’s why he was being weird today_

Jon shut his eyes as the memory replayed; it was a sweet one, Tommy leaning in unexpectedly to kiss him. The kind of thoughtless, everyday kiss Jon had shared with girlfriends, but this was new and nothing Tommy did was thoughtless. He imagined Lovett standing outside the door. 

Jon opened his eyes and realized Tommy must be waiting for him to reply. 

_Did you talk to him about it?_ he sent. 

_Yeah._

_And?_

_I told him to talk to you._

Jon stared down at his phone screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. _Can we call?_

Tommy called right away. “Hey, man,” Tommy said in his ear. 

“Hey.”

There was a pause; Tommy laughed, and Jon rushed into it. “You sure everything’s cool with you and Lovett? Cause I don’t - I don’t wanna mess it up. We’re building something here, the company, and it’s good, and whatever’s working, I wanna - keep doing that. You and me. The three of us being. Friends. All of it.”

The _you and me_ felt like an admission. 

“Me too,” Tommy said immediately. Jon slumped down onto his back and put Tommy on speaker, his phone laid on his chest. He felt the tension in him lessen. “I think it’s okay. I - this was always gonna be weird, right?”

Jon stared at the ceiling. “Is he mad at us?”

“He’s annoyed we concealed it from him, he’s - I dunno, I think he’s kinda mad that I get to have sex with you.”

“Shut up,” Jon said, disbelieving. It was warm for early May and he shifted under his comforter, kicked it down to his legs. “You’re fucking with me. Lovett’s never wanted to have sex with me. That’s your thing.” 

Tommy was quiet on the other end of the phone. Jon’s own breathing sounded loud to him, in the empty bedroom. 

“Tommy?”

Tommy had a way of flatly contradicting you without saying a word. Jon had always thought it was impressive that he could do it over the phone. 

“Hey,” Tommy said, fond and unhelpful. 

Jon sat back up and let out a disbelieving laugh. “So what did Lovett say?” 

“He said, why are you dating Favs without me? And then he asked if you and I ever fucked while me and him were seeing each other, and I said I didn’t fucking cheat on him, and then I told him you two should talk about this.”

“What the fuck,” Jon said. He felt, distantly, that he should say more than that, but none of it felt safe to say to Tommy. 

“You know, I did tell you things might get complicated if I moved from San Francisco.”

“Shut up,” Jon said immediately. 

“Just saying. So much for keeping things normal.” 

Jon rubbed a hand over his thigh. Normal sounded good, though he was pretty sure he’d lost all perspective of what it was. “Wanna jerk off over the phone?” he said. 

He was relieved when after a second Tommy said, “Sure. Good idea.”

“Hey, I’m full of ‘em.” Jon wasn’t thinking of Lovett, wasn’t. He didn’t need to with Tommy right here, even though it was suddenly terrifyingly easy to imagine Lovett’s jokes, the way they teased Lovett, the beating heart behind it all, with a new intent. That there had been something real hiding behind it all along, that Lovett wanted Jon to touch him, wanted to stretch up and kiss him the way he’d done with Tommy - 

“You touching yourself?” Tommy said, low, cutting through his thoughts. 

“I am now,” Jon said, reaching over for the lube and sliding a hand into his boxers. He felt slightly shaky, like a minor earthquake had taken place inside him, but it was all mostly holding steady. 

“Cause I am.” 

“I wanted to go further in the office, today,” Jon said, after a pause where there was nothing but the sound of his sheets rustling, his hand moving slowly on his dick. “Wouldn’t have, obviously.”

Tommy groaned. There was something deeply reassuring in it. Jon knew he wasn’t a replacement for Lovett; what he and Tommy had was completely different, but - it was nice, having Tommy’s attention on him, specifically. Made him want to keep it. 

“Yeah,” Jon said, feeling his face and chest heat up. “Wanted to suck you off right there.”

“Jon, God,” Tommy said. Tommy was jerking off properly now, he could tell. “You wanna do that in the meeting room. Just get under the table.”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “Stay there until I made you come. See how loud I could get you to be.” It was easy to picture, because he already knew how it felt to be alone there with Tommy, alive with the thrill of touching him. 

“You’d have to be quick. Can’t linger.”

Jon tucked his free hand behind his head, stretched his legs out and pushed up easily into his own grip, thinking about it, Tommy in a chair with his legs spread wide and Jon between them, Tommy’s hand in his hair, letting Tommy take charge of the motion and move Jon’s head the way he wanted it, so his cock pressed into Jon’s throat, giving him a second to breathe and then pushing him back down because they had to be quick, someone might see them there, Lovett, Lovett might - Jon came into his hand with a gasp. 

He heard Tommy laughing softly down the phone. “That was quick.”

“Sorry,” Jon said; his cock pulsed at the sound of Tommy’s voice and he jerked himself through it. “I was in my own head.” 

“Seemed like you were having a good time.” 

“Yeah. Not bad. You, uh, you were fucking my mouth at our workplace, it was pretty indecent.”

“Jon!” Tommy’s voice was pitched high and Jon wasn’t sure if he was turned on or aggrieved. “Phone sex isn’t supposed to be an internal monologue.” 

Jon smirked and wiped his hand on his thigh. “I told you most of it. Your turn.” 

“Fine, fine,” Tommy said. “Talk me through it.”

“Nah, man, I already did the talking. Narrate for me, Tom. What are you doing?”

“You’re the speechwriter.” A pause. Tommy was good at dirty talk, less good at talking about himself. Jon picked up the phone and took it through to the bathroom with him. “Well, I’m wearing. Ugh, who cares.”

“I care,” Jon said, wiping himself down and rinsing his hands. “So deeply.” He rolled his eyes at the silence emanating from the phone and took it back through to the bed with him.

“Jeans, I’m in jeans, I’m on the couch.”

“You’re so bad at this. Tell me about your cock, Vietor.” 

“Shut up! You need it so fucking bad.” 

“Mmmm,” Jon said, settled and warm and sleepy and deeply fond of how flustered Tommy sounded. “You can tell me about that too if you want.” 

“You sound half asleep,” Tommy said. “If I was there I’d - roll you over onto your front, rub off on you, come on your back.” 

“Yeah, I’d let you. Do whatever.” Tommy had gone quiet again and Jon pulled the comforter back up over him and closed his eyes. 

“Favs? Jon?”

Jon realized with a faint twinge of guilt that he’d been halfway to falling asleep. “Hey,” he said. “Did you come?” 

“Yeah. That was good.”

“Mmm.” Jon wanted to live in the tenderness in Tommy’s voice. It was the same voice he’d used when he’d found Jon at his desk in their apartment, slumped over a speech, and half guided half hauled him over to his bed. 

“So if...” Tommy trailed off. “So if you think something might happen between you and Lovett...”

“You really think there’s a chance?”

“Yeah. If you want it, Jon. I think there is.” Jon didn’t say anything. “Do you want it? ‘Cause if you don’t I won’t push it anymore, that’s fine with me--”

“I do,” Jon said. Drowsiness and warmth muted the sense of queasy, thudding possibility those words awoke in him. He rolled over and half-buried his face in the pillow, nudged the phone closer to his face. “You’d be okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. Jon wished he could see Tommy’s face, but Tommy sounded sure. “I think - you can’t leave it hanging. You have to know. So. Only if you wanna, but you can.” 

“Okay. Thanks,” Jon said, unsure if that was the right word. “I might text him, then. Tomorrow.”

Tommy whistled. “Don’t hang around.”

“I can’t sit on something like that, it’d drive me crazy. Dude, I’m pretty tired. I’ll... text you? About Lovett?”

“Sure. Good idea. I should sleep too. Night.” 

“Sleep well,” Jon said, fumbled his phone onto the nightstand and turned out the light. 

He rolled onto his back and then back onto his side, unsettled though his limbs were heavy, but even thoughts of Lovett couldn’t keep him from sleep.

\---

_Lovett_

Jon fully intended to spend his Saturday ignoring Tommy’s advice and ignoring both Tommy and Favs. He had things to do anyway. Chores! Exercise! Netflix! 

Favs hadn’t got the memo, it seemed, because he texted Jon mid-morning as if everything was normal. 

_hitting up the gym today?_ the message read. 

Jon sighed audibly at his phone. 

_yes but at a different time to when you’re going_ , he sent back. 

Favs didn’t reply.

 _fine_ , Jon sent after half an hour of intermittent glaring at his phone.  
_I’m not your gym buddy_  
_we can do brunch_  
_I’m coming over_

“This invitation didn’t exist outside your head,” Favs said when he opened the door. “And I don't have food.” 

“We can go out in a bit.” Jon made himself comfortable on his favorite corner of the couch the way he always did, and tried to act as if everything was normal. 

“You okay, Lovett?” Favs said. “You’re doing something weird with your face.”

And that was the problem in a nutshell: Favs knew him too well. So much that was good in Jon’s life, that he was proud of and held dear, traced back to Favs, and Jon had come here to - what? To confess his horrible jealousy about Favs’ relationship? To say, _hey, let’s give this a try?_

It was hard to get past the absurdity, on the face of it, of that proposition. Favs would probably sit there, reacting with his eyebrows and then he’d talk in a very genuine way about how much he valued their friendship and then he’d try to gently extricate himself and the lines would be clearly drawn and Jon would have to work from home and turn his house into a hermit cave of exile until he had recovered from the humiliation of rejection enough to look Favs in his unusually handsome, Vietor-kissing face. 

“What kind of weird?” he said. 

“Like when you say something deeply inappropriate to a senator, and then feel embarrassed as soon as they leave. Like--” Favs tilted his head and wrinkled his nose. 

“I’m not doing that. Stop it. That’s gross. Only you do that weird thing with your nose.” Favs did it again. It was charming. Jon hated it. 

Then Favs said, “Hey, sorry for not telling you about me and Tommy.” He folded his hands together, looking uncomfortable. “It’s kinda new. Back in Chicago we thought it was just fucking around, and now it’s different, but it takes time for that to filter through. If you’re us.” 

“Yeah,” Jon said. “I get that.”

“Telling you makes it real,” Favs said. “The - gay thing.” He was red, holding himself tensely, staring at the wall behind Jon’s head. 

Jon nodded. “The Lovett stamp of approval. That’s much gayer than actually fucking a guy.”

“Alright,” Favs said. “It sounds bad when you put it like that. I know, Lovett. I was a real moron when I was twenty three, I didn’t assign much significance to hooking up occasionally--”

“Jon, shut up. I love it when my friends turn out to be gay! Or any other variety of not straight! Every single time someone I knew at college came out on Facebook I clapped my gay little hands, years later, even the ones who were assholes to me cause they hated themselves. Remember when we threw a party for Tony?”

“Yeah, I've heard stories. You didn't invite me.”

“Cause you told me you were straight! You weren't in the club. Welcome. We have a good time. As you know, because you were sleeping with _Tommy_ for years without telling me.”

“Thanks, I think?” Favs said. He looked up, grinning shyly. Jon remembered that rush of relief, on the other side of the nerves. 

God, Favs looked fucking edible. Jon was acutely conscious that he didn't touch Favs, on the whole. They weren't in the habit of providing each other with skin to skin contact. He wished he could, and didn't trust himself to.

“We - me and Tommy were both fucking lots of people, on the campaign trail. Women, mostly. We were together in a pressure cooker. I thought it didn't mean much. I was just out of Jesuit college, Lovett.”

“I know,” Jon said. “But it’s different now, you said?”

“Yeah.” Favs sounded so certain. Jon got that: Tommy was someone you could be sure about. It was a key part of the Tommy appeal. It was unfortunate Jon himself had seen fit to wrench them apart, when he’d had that. Still. Here they were, and choices, once made, couldn’t be undone.

Tommy's voice, “He's not my boyfriend,” sounded in Jon’s skull. _Fuck off, Tommy,_ he thought.

“You did lie to me though,” he said. “You didn't have to. Sorry. I won't. I'm not gonna make you feel bad.”

He didn't see Favs like this often, looking caught out and on the edge of real upset. They’d cried in front of each other because of politics, because of work, they’d snapped at each other, but it had always been an easy friendship, improbably uncomplicated affection.

Stupid to push at this anyway. It wasn’t like knowing could have made him a part of something that had nothing to do with him.

Favs crossed his arms and hunched over. “I knew the breakup was hard for you and Tommy. It just seemed easier not to tell you.” 

“Things don’t have to be easy,” Jon said. “They almost never are, in fact. I hate when people choose the easy lie.” 

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Favs said. 

That hit him hard. Jon took a deep, shaky breath. This was the part that stung. 

“You won’t,” he said. “I promise. Make each other happy. That's all I came here to say.”

“Lovett,” Favs said. He didn't look particularly happy about Jon’s noble and self-sacrificing generosity. Instead he looked confused. 

“I’m serious. I’m not gonna lie, this is weird for me, but go ahead, do your thing. That’s all. You don’t have to get me brunch.” 

“You really don’t get it. It’s not like that,” Favs said. He was leaning forward towards Jon, his hands clasped. 

Jon threw his hands up in the air. “God, what is it with you two? Is this what happens when you mix together Catholic and Protestant repression? Two guys who are categorically incapable of admitting they want to fucking be together?”

“No, I want fucking you!” Favs shouted. “I want you too, Lovett. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“So what,” Jon said weakly, “You’re gonna take turns with me and Tommy? Alternate nights?” 

“I have no idea. Tommy knows. He thinks we should do this.”

“Oh,” Jon said. He found that he had run out of words. It was as if he had run a marathon, stepped over the finish line and found himself in an entirely different country, looking around him and blinking in incomprehension. 

“But you seem to want some distance, which is understandable, so I’ll just back off, now that I know,” Favs said, measured. 

“Oh. No. No distance, please. In fact, come over here.”

“What?”

“Me too. We’re both morons, and this is a bad idea. Come _here_ ,” Jon said, thumping the couch with the palm of his hand. 

Favs stood, crossed the room, and sat down gingerly next to him. Jon took Favs’ hand in his, feeling a bit of a fool. 

Their eyes met. Jon rarely took the chance to actually study Favs’ face, his dark eyes and the small pleased quirk of his lips. Favs could be soft without looking like it took a conscious effort to let down his guard, in a way that Jon envied. 

Favs was still but the way he was watching Jon was urgent, like he was fighting himself to stay still. Jon felt deeply unprepared for this moment, hardly recognized the Favs in front of him, red from shouting and eyes wide with disbelief, breathing hard because of _Jon_. 

There were lines Jon had drawn, certain ways he could flirt with Favs and be flirted with back, safe in the knowledge that it was a joke. This sincerity was disarming.

Just when he’d decided he couldn’t prolong the agony of anticipation any longer, Favs said, “Lovett?”, swallowed visibly and leaned in, and somehow they were kissing, and Favs’ hand had found its way to the side of Jon’s face and was cupping his cheek. It was assured and yet exploratory; Jon felt a fleeting rush of strangeness as the kiss deepened that they’d known each other a decade and change and somehow _hadn’t_ done this until now, like coming across a fact that was entirely new and so obvious he should have known it his whole life. When Jon Favreau kissed him, he kissed like he was desperate for it. Jon dug his fingers into Favs’ back. Favs’ teeth scraped over his lip, and Jon hummed approvingly. 

When they pulled apart, it was only so Jon could scramble into Favs’ lap. “This is new,” he said. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Favs echoed, mocking, and immediately ruined it by smiling at him blindingly. 

“All this secret office sex I’ve been missing out on. You have a lot to make up for.” He undid two of Favs’ shirt buttons, just enough to make him look satisfyingly disheveled. 

Favs tilted his head back. “We haven’t actually - I mean, one time, but that barely counts.”

“Favs! I was joking! You fucked Tommy in the office?” Favs looked guilty, and Jon wanted to shake him until all of his secrets fell out of his mouth. Gently. An erotic shakedown. He leered at Favs in irritable imitation of his smirk. “Oh, I’m so repressed, I can’t look my lover Tommy Vietor in the eye! I’m Jon Favreau, I can only trade guilty handjobs in the dead of night with the lights off! I’m straight except for when I’m not, I love my dog and my secret boyfriend. It’s not gay if it’s on office premises! That’s what the Jesuits taught me.” 

“Lovett. Lovett! Are you okay.” Favs put his hand over Jon’s mouth and didn’t move it, even when Jon said “Mmph!”. 

“Lovett. Oh my fucking god. Would you let me finish a sentence before you break out the world’s worst impression and start spraying me with spit?” Favs waited, and his hand was still there, counterproductively, since he seemed to want some kind of response. Jon nodded begrudgingly. “It wasn’t at Crooked Media, you - this is like nine years ago. I told you Tommy and I fucked around. This isn’t some kind of conspiracy, we’re really just dumbasses figuring it out.”

Favs loosened his grip on Jon’s jaw and withdrew his hand. He seemed not sure what to do with it, and ended up lightly holding Jon’s hip. Jon found he missed Favs’ fingers on his hot cheeks, his palm against Jon’s lips. 

“Well,” Jon said. “That rings true, I suppose. Guess I’m not the only gay idiot around here.” He was dizzy and half hard in his pants, and felt a slight headache coming on from all the shouting and the almost crying. He pitched forward and rested his forehead on Favs’ shoulder. A hand stroked through his hair. 

They stayed like that for a while. Once Jon’s head felt quieter he straightened up and kissed Favs again. 

“What are we gonna tell Tommy?”

“I wish--” Favs began, and shook his head.

“What?” Jon said. 

“I was gonna say, I wish you and Tommy hadn’t broken up, so you didn’t have to like, romantically avoid each other. So we could... I was imagining this, with Tommy here. But that’s stupid. You knew what you wanted.”

Now Jon, too, was imagining this with Tommy here. It felt like pressing on a bruise, the morning after: it hurt, and he wanted to do it more. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I wanted Tommy. Tommy didn’t wanna have a clandestine gay relationship in the White House or a mildly scandalous openly gay relationship in the White House, and those were really the only two options, other than breaking up.” 

“Right.” Favs ran his thumb back and forth over the skin of Jon’s wrist. “You didn’t get back together, though, after he left.”

Jon shrugged. “Different cities. Anyway, I was having an incredible time working on a series of unsuccessful network comedies and having sex with shallow, terrible people. I’m sure you remember that period of my life. You were there for most of it.” 

“Maybe you should...”

“What. What should I do?”

Favs shrugged, shook his head, buried his chin in his hand. “Anyway, he said I could have sex with you. Very free-spirited, our Tommy.” 

“You know what?” Jon said, peeling Favs’ hand away and leaning in to kiss him. “No idea what he’s getting out of it, but I think Tommy was onto something.” 

_Tommy_

Getting day drunk on his own wasn’t a choice Tommy was particularly proud of, but he felt that circumstances merited an unhealthy coping mechanism. It was marginally more dignified than knocking on his neighbor’s door and begging to pet her dog. 

He had beers in the fridge, he had a book on foreign policy he’d been meaning to dig into called _A World In Disarray_ that seemed suited to the current mood, no one was coming round to see him and he didn’t want to go out and do anything. Right now Favs was probably talking to Lovett, and unless they were far more emotionally stunted than he suspected them to be, they’d probably figured out that nothing about the way they felt towards each other was remotely platonic. 

Either somebody’s dick was getting sucked, or somebody’s heart was getting broken, and either way it was gonna make for a deeply uncomfortable vibe at the office on Monday. Tommy’d had plenty of chances to see why the adage _don’t shit where you eat_ was commonly received wisdom when working at the White House. 

He’d known, and he’d fallen hard anyway, over and over, and had his heart broken. Lovett, and now maybe Favs.

But Favs had been around the longest of all, and Tommy, for all he was jaded about his love life, didn’t believe Favs would leave him. Favs would just - try and make it work, try and gather everyone he loved as close to him as possible, until the proximity to Tommy chafed at Lovett and the whole thing fell apart, probably taking their whole business down along with it. 

That was the fear that gripped him, more so than the prospect of messy, drawn out, stupid attempts to turn friendships into more and the inevitable falling out that ensued, and more than the old longing that came back and seized you at unexpected moments: that Crooked Media would falter and eventually fall apart if they didn’t work this out. 

God, he was better than this maudlin bullshit. He needed another beer. 

\---

Favs called in the evening while Tommy was sprawled out on the couch and of course, Tommy picked up straight away. By that point he’d sobered up, eaten, gone for a run, showered, realized he was being absurd, texted his sister a names-redacted partial version of the current shitshow for some perspective, watched cable news for a while, felt disgusted, done his laundry, reread his sister’s sensible and bracing advice ( _Is this about Lovett? It sounds like it is_ ), contemplated his life and his choices, recalled with a new and hideous urgency that he had _urged_ Favs and Lovett to hook up, because he, what, hated himself? Thought his own happiness was incompatible with that of the people he loved most? -- spent a while picturing what Favs and Lovett might have been doing, replayed a few scenes from the nightmare period with Lovett when he’d known he couldn’t go on like this, conversations that he’d twisted in his mind into a certain shape and burnished until they shone because they confirmed his worst fears about himself, fallen into a pit of despair, tried to jerk off and realized he was in too much of a black mood, hauled himself most of the way out of it, picked three fights on twitter and fended off Dan’s concerned DMs.

In short, he’d done nothing at all, and felt exhausted by it. 

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Favs said. Sounded - cautious, but happy, if Tommy had to guess. Tone was hard to decipher over the phone. This would be easier if they facetimed, but they usually didn’t. Right now Tommy looked moody and pathetic, so he was glad of that. “Not much. How’re you?”

“Fine,” Tommy said. “Quiet day. Went for a run. I don’t really have a routine here yet.”

“Yeah,” Favs agreed. “You’re still settling in. You’ll have to host a housewarming party. We can introduce you to Ira, he’s the best. And Lovett’s nerd friends. They’re funny. They do gaming nights.” 

“Sure.” 

“So,” Favs said, dragging the word out, decisiveness trailing off into caution. “I said I’d text you about how it went with Lovett, but I thought calling would probably be better.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. God, he was out of it. 

“If you’re free to talk?”

“No, yeah, now’s good. Nothing else going on.”

“Okay!” Favs said, then he was quiet. “So, I talked to Lovett,” he said. “I’m really glad we talked. And - it’s crazy, because I’ve known him, we’ve known him fucking - not as long as I’ve known you, but nearly a decade. And I never knew he might - think of me that way, I didn’t dream, and that would’ve been fucked up anyway because I was his boss and he was your - boyfriend, for a while, but it’s been just me and him here in L.A. Anyway, I. We.”

Tommy’d known this. It was obvious. Anyone could see how Favs felt about Lovett. He tried to reach for the teasing voice he usually used when Favs was telling him things over the phone. “You...”

“We kissed, and then we did stuff.” _Did stuff_ , like they were teenagers whispering about what they’d done at summer camp, but Tommy got it, he froze up sometimes if Favs wanted him to get specific, and he himself wasn’t exactly being forthcoming right now. This was, for reasons too numerous to be worth iterating, weird. 

“So...” Favs laughed softly. “Thoughts? Feelings? Reactions? It was really hot, Tommy. I hadn’t really thought about how you were the only guy I’d ever fucked, but it was different. I guess you know. What was it like? When you were with Lovett?”

Tommy was silent. Various possible answers occurred to him: Lovett wasn’t as shy about how he liked it, Lovett liked less talking, Lovett could be mean when the mood took him, Lovett was fucking demanding, Lovett veered between disarming sweetness and enforced unsentimentality, Lovett was always, always, careful and kind when Tommy needed it.

Somehow, none of these were things he could say to Favs; once he told Favs they would cease to belong to him, to be unique to what he’d had with Lovett. 

“Tommy? Anyone there?”

Tommy dug his palm into his forehead. “Sorry. I’m a little - God. Sorry. With Lovett? It was good.”

“Alright, cause - you said this was fine, you suggested it, but it sounds like something’s up with you.”

“It is fine,” Tommy snapped. 

“So then what’s your deal? Wanna tell me why you sound like you’re about to attend your own funeral?” 

“I’m not ready! For - for it to be you and Lovett all of a sudden.”

“It’s also you and me,” Favs said slowly, as if addressing an idiot. “That’s the whole fucking deal, Tommy. Do you not want this to be happening? Because I sure wish you’d said that instead of what you actually said, which was the exact opposite.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah, you don’t?”

“No, I--”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry,” Tommy said. He sat up. Fix this. Fix it. “Sorry, this is just more complicated than I thought. I panicked for a second. We’re still solid?” 

“Yeah, man, you were freaking me out!”

“You and Lovett is - that’s hot.” It was. He just hadn’t anticipated the pang he’d feel, knowing that Favs got to touch Lovett and hold him and learn his body, knowing Tommy would never have that again. Stupid, considering - he’d definitely wanted Favs to have that. “Can we talk tomorrow, maybe?”

“Sure, but you’re gonna tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Deal,” Tommy said. “We can - talk after work? Come over to mine?”

“Yeah,” Favs said. “Okay. Bye, Tommy.”

“Bye,” Tommy said, and then realized that Favs had already hung up. 

\---

Tommy got up earlier than usual, to give him extra time to work out how to be regular Tommy at work, instead of some hyper-tense freak giving murder eyes at everyone because he was way less chill about the secret clusterfuck love triangle involving his two best friends than he had previously given the impression of being. 

Most days it would’ve been easy to keep his head down and claim a backlog of work or a bad night’s sleep, but it was a Monday and they had a pod to record. 

So, game face on. Fall back on easy, reliable topics. Channel it into justified rage at the latest foreign policy bullshit. 

The knowledge that he’d managed to piss Favs off sat queasily in the pit of his stomach. It took some effort to have a real fight with Favs. Tommy knew to slip out of bed if he woke up early, go for a run and come back bearing coffee; he knew that when Favs was angry he usually just needed a listening ear until he talked himself back into optimism. Favs knew when to let Tommy stew and when to sit next to him and put a game on TV. 

When you knew each other that well, it was hard to fuck things up too badly. It took a complicating factor, like, say, an incredibly high-pressure job, to make them snap at each other. Or it took a person like Jon Lovett. 

\---

He made it through the usual morning greetings, the arguments over coffee, the look Lovett gave him - wary, but open - as he handed Tommy his mug, the hand Favs put on Tommy’s shoulder as he leaned over him to look at his laptop screen. He was focused through the morning meeting as they ran through the weekend’s news, kept his gaze down on his notes. 

Lovett seemed... happy. He was peppier than usual. He lay on the floor with Pundit’s rope toy and had a vigorous tug of war with her that ended with her licking his face and pawing at his hair until Leo joined in and Lovett was a disheveled mess. 

“Lovett,” Favs said, when they’d managed to stop laughing. “That’s disgusting.” 

Lovett jumped up, red-faced and beaming, and scrubbed a hand over his cheek. “Okay, yeah. Pretty gross.” 

The strangest, hardest thing was how normal Lovett and Favs made it seem. Like things had always meant to be this way. That strange, overnight click when they became a _them_. 

“Tommy’s ordering fries, right?” Lovett said, once he’d closed his laptop and announced that it was lunch time. “I want fries, but I want a handful, not a portion.”

“Unbelievable,” Favs said, and elbowed Lovett. 

“What?” Lovett rolled his eyes, looking pleased. “Tommy doesn’t want a whole portion, he wants to stay looking trim. Favs, you’re invested in this outcome more than any of us.”

“What?” Favs said, darting his eyes around the office

“Lovett, what,” Tommy agreed. 

“I don’t - I don’t care about that,” Favs said, reddening. “Tommy can order what he wants and he’ll look fine.”

Lovett looked thrilled and intrigued by this admission. Tommy was not prepared for how it felt to hear Favs - complimenting his appearance - to Lovett. He wanted to crawl under the table. This was too much. All of it was too much. 

“Stop - leering, or whatever you’re doing, what the hell, Lovett,” Favs said in a hissed undertone, and put a hand on Lovett’s leg. Lovett, monster that he was, let his smile spread wider. 

“Hey, guys, could you tone it down a little? Maybe?” Tommy said. 

Favs pulled his hand back, shot a glance over at Tommy. 

“Sorry,” Lovett said mutinously. 

Tommy ate at his desk. Lovett was quieter after that, spent more time looking over towards Tommy. 

Tommy just had to make it through the day. Record the pod. And figure out what the hell he was going to tell Favs. 

\---

_Lovett_

Something was up with Tommy, and it was mostly Jon’s fault. 

Well, it was all of their faults. There was certainly a case to be made that Tommy was primarily to blame for whatever the fuck was going on inside Tommy’s head. But Jon couldn’t stop broadcasting to the world at large that he’d gotten Jon Favreau naked over the weekend, and he felt great about that fact, and it was making him feel guilty. 

He really couldn’t avoid it. There was a lot to feel good about. The noises Favs made, the way his careful long fingers felt inside of Jon, the way he’d _asked_ if he could suck Jon’s dick, like Jon was gonna say no to that. Favs sprawled out afterward over his bed, eyes closed in contentment, his chest perfect for Jon to rest his head on and lazily run his fingers over his skin. 

Tommy knew what Jon looked like when he’d had some really good dick, because Tommy had used to be the one providing it. 

If Tommy had thought this was a good idea like Favs had told him, he seemed to have changed his mind about that. 

\---

Jon took his chance when he saw Tommy alone in the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher methodically. Stubborn asshole, Jon thought, amazed by his capacity to feel fond about it. 

He closed the door and leaned back against it. 

“Tommy,” he said, and tried to hold onto the words that he had planned out in his mind. “I wanted to talk to you about - me and Favs, maybe - seeing each other.” Tommy stopped, dish in hand, and straightened up. Jon took a deep breath. “It’s not a replacement. You’re fine. He still likes you.”

“I know,” Tommy said. 

“You know.” 

“Yes. He told me this himself,” Tommy said acidly. 

“Cool,” Jon said. “So you’re totally fine with it.” Tommy tensed his jaw, his eyes wide and bugged out. “Just like you said.”

He took a step away from the door, towards Tommy. “This is exactly how you wanted things to go. No?”

“I’m still - adjusting,” Tommy said. Jon drew closer to him, and watched how Tommy tracked his movement. He felt more self-assured the closer he drew to Tommy, because he could see, in the way Tommy held himself, his arms stiff by his sides, posture straight, that Tommy was scared, and Jon had never managed to intimidate anyone in his life. 

He slid the drawer in, closed the dishwasher and stepped in-between Tommy’s legs, tilted his head up. This view of Tommy’s chest and neck and chin and nose was familiar; so was Tommy’s boring plain blue shirt. Tommy swallowed. 

“Adjusting to what?” Jon said. “Tell me, what’s the endpoint here?”

“I don’t know, Lovett,” Tommy said helplessly. “I only just got here.” 

“I’m right here, Tommy!” Jon said, loud enough that Tommy jerked back. “That’s not just a failure of imagination, it’s - are you literally blind? Do you see me?” He stretched up onto his toes and waved a hand in front of Tommy’s face.

“Yes,” Tommy snapped. “I see you. I know you’re there. Don’t worry, Lovett, the problem has literally never been people being unaware of your presence, you make sure of that.” 

“Well, good, ‘cause I’m not getting out of the way! If you didn’t want me to fuck Favs, you shouldn’t have played matchmaker. Luckily for me, he’s not your boyfriend,” Jon said, air-quoting the last two words as viciously as he could.

“It makes me jealous, Lovett. I’m fucking jealous that he can still have you.”

“Did you not hear me? _Right. Here._ I’m practically breathing into your mouth, Tommy!”

If Tommy didn’t react, if he didn’t - grab Jon, kiss him, _something_ \- Jon was gonna - smash a plate, take his clothes off, get in his car and keep driving until he reached New York, make his mom’s day by finally going to law school so he could sue Tommy for _criminal idiocy_ -

\- Tommy put a hand on Jon’s neck and Jon didn’t bother waiting. He surged up and shoved his mouth against Tommy’s and Tommy took Jon by the shoulders and spun him round, pressed him against the cabinet. Four years of distance and waiting went into the kiss, which in its early moments was a contest between Tommy trying to get his tongue into Jon’s mouth and Jon trying to bite Tommy’s lips, which was gross and made Jon desperately turned on. Tommy pushed him hard against the cabinet, hemming him in, and Jon pushed back, grateful to be able to expend his pent-up energy pushing against a solid wall of Tommy. 

The kiss turned softer eventually, Jon’s irritation burning off. He couldn’t keep his hands off Tommy. He was fiercely glad. Jon reached out his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Lovett, don’t - text, what the hell--” Tommy said, but Jon fended him off and managed to type out _kitchen. Now._

“Trust me,” he said, shoved his phone away and drew Tommy back to him. “Am I not completely right about everything?”

_Favs_

It had been a strange day. Tommy was as downcast as Lovett was cheerful, and Jon felt responsible for both, unsure what he should do about it, and worried that this strange undercurrent would bleed through when they recorded the pod. 

He had no idea what to make of Lovett’s text. He wondered if dating Lovett meant being summoned abruptly to various locations without any explanation of why, and wished he wasn’t the kind of person who immediately jumped up to follow Lovett’s instruction. 

The kitchen door was closed, which was also strange. “What’s going on?” Jon said, entering, and then realized that the question was entirely superfluous. 

They were kissing. Jon might have thought they were totally oblivious to his presence if Lovett hadn’t brought him here to see it. 

“Hey, guys,” Jon said. He thought this image, Tommy bending down to kiss Lovett with a hand on the back of Lovett’s neck, might be seared into his memory forever. 

“Favs?” Tommy kept his hands on Lovett as he turned, and Jon saw a brief flash of panic in his eyes. It turned into disbelief as Jon got closer. Lovett had a hand resting on Tommy’s chest, and he looked immensely pleased with himself. 

Jon wanted to kiss both of them. He _could_ kiss both of them. He had to choose which of them to kiss first. 

Lovett saw this dilemma occur to Jon and laughed at him. _Fine_ , Jon thought. He grabbed onto Lovett’s hand, and kissed Tommy. Tommy groaned into his mouth.

“He’s still adjusting,” Lovett said. “He’ll catch up soon.” 

Tommy pulled away from Jon. Jon reluctantly let him go.

“Caught up! I fucking love you,” Tommy said. He was staring at Lovett, pink-cheeked. He turned to Jon and repeated it. “I love you. This is good. Let’s do it more.” 

“I know we’re doing threesomes now,” Lovett said, “but we don’t do group hugs. Got it?”

Jon squeezed Lovett’s hand. “I think I can live with that.”

\---

“For the record,” Tanya said, “You’re really lucky that I’m good at keeping secrets and I like all of you. Okay, all good? You can start recording whenever you’re ready.”

Jon needn’t have worried about recording today’s pod. They were on fire.


End file.
